Tag Archives: travel

Oh, the Places to Run!

Posted on May 3, 2025 | Leave a comment

Submission guidelines:

  1. Email running photographs for consideration to ohtheplacestorun@gmail.com
  2. Include the location of the photo (i.e., city; state; nation)
  3. Share a brief description of the photo (e.g., the place, the run, the people, etc.)
  4. Categories include: nature (beautiful scenery); roadside attractions (interesting things); humor (funny things); friends/people (running buddies); and travel (pics taken on runs while traveling)
  5. You retain all rights to your photograph and will receive photo credit when posted on Oh, the Places to Run! (note: if you want to promote your personal social media account or running club, please share that information)

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I wish I could remember.

There are certain things I do recall. Like joining my wife for a super slow 5k jog in Westlake Village way back in 2010 after I had taken a couple of decades off from running. And my subsequent decision to purchase a cheap pair of running shoes and try running again, knowing it wouldn’t last. And my surprise and excitement later that it did.

And I also remember that someone shared the Nike Run Club app with me even though I never used GPS. And then the app itself remembers that it was July 2, 2013, when I first used it, jogging 1.27 miles with my wife on Malibu Road, which led to thousands and thousands of miles shared with that app over the past twelve years.

But what I don’t remember is the first time I decided to add a picture as a memory of one of my runs. I wish I remembered. Because that changed my life.

I am not a world-class photographer. And I am not a world-class runner. But what I have become is someone with a habit of going out into the world with open eyes, searching for the beauty that is everywhere once you start looking. I want to capture that beauty when I run. To remember.

I have a lot of running pictures now. A lot. And not to brag, but some of them are actually pretty good (if you take enough pictures, you get lucky every now and then). I have shared many running pictures on my social media accounts over the years, and periodically friends have encouraged me to collect them in a book—and I might do that someday. But today I have a different plan.

Today, I am launching a new Facebook page and an Instagram page titled, “Oh, the Places to Run!” (Imagine Humans of New York but for running places.) It will start small, I’m sure, sort of like my running habit, but I hope that it will grow to change the lives of other people, too.

My habit began in Malibu, California, and many said that I would struggle to find beautiful photo material once I moved away from breathtaking ocean and mountain scenery, and I took that as a personal challenge. I soon discovered that my suspicion was correct: There is beauty to be discovered everywhere. At least that’s what I discovered living in urban Tennessee, and then rural Illinois, and now rural Wisconsin—and actually everywhere I have traveled along the way.

I will keep taking pictures and sharing them on my new pages, and I hope you all will add the new pages to your algorithms and follow, like, share, and comment along the way. But my dream is much bigger. I hope that past, present, and future runners will share their favorite running place photos with me, too, and that these pages become places where everyone can discover that there is beauty everywhere when we have eyes to see.

So please click on the following links and follow along on Facebook and/or Instagram if you would be so kind. And, if you are willing to share some of your own running photos for consideration, submission guidelines are at the top of this blog post.

As Dr. Seuss famously wrote: “You’re off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting…so get on your way!”

Let’s go!

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Holy the Firm

Posted on April 16, 2025 | 4 comments

We misplaced our hiking habit in our move to Wisconsin, but it magically reappeared last weekend during our trip to the Wisconsin Dells to celebrate Jody’s birthday. And that makes me happy.

“The Dells” refers to a scenic gorge on the Wisconsin River about an hour’s drive from our home, but the accompanying small town is widely known in the Midwest as a tourist destination, branding itself as the “Waterpark Capital of the World.” We found the touristy town hard to describe but fun to experience. You might imagine Gatlinburg and Las Vegas had a baby that loves cheese curds.

Jody had the brilliant idea of doing a weekend trip in the offseason as our introduction to the Wisconsin Dells, which worked out well. I’m really not sure that either of us can handle it when all the screaming children — um, I mean, when all the well-behaved children arrive en masse with their extraordinary parents on summer vacation. It might be best that we remain an hour’s drive away from Memorial Day to Labor Day.

We had a fantastic weekend. When we arrived on Saturday, we wandered through shops and bought peanut butter fudge. We had way too much fun taking selfies (in “totally rad” costumes) at Totally ’80s Immersive Experience. We had a lovely dinner and tried our luck at bowling afterward. But on Sunday morning, we drove a few miles out of town for a hike at Mirror Lake State Park. That was the best.

Winter is persistent in Wisconsin, as you might suspect, so a mid-April hike has a different appearance than past hikes in many of our former homes. But it was so lovely. We hiked for several miles and were alone the entire time. Nobody around but us.

And the snow birds returning overhead.

And the evergreen trees.

And the crunchy leaves.

And the bare branches with the tiniest buds.

And the mirror lake.

And the quietness and “peace of wild things,” as Wendell Berry called it.

The news seems pretty shitty these days. The rule of law is in question. The economy is drunk texting our 401ks. The government is making mistakes on who they deport to brutal prisons in El Salvador. If you add in a few personal problems, it is enough to make one consider despair.

Going for a walk in the woods might not solve the world’s problems, but I suggest it anyway. At least I found it worthwhile last Sunday morning.

Annie Dillard wrote the mystical masterpiece, Holy the Firm, in 1977 following news of a plane crash that disfigured a small child and got her to wrestling with the problem of pain and evil in the world. How does one carry on in a world that is often cruel and feels meaningless?

Her title, Holy the Firm, as I understand it, referred to something the earliest Christians believed existed beneath the Earth’s surface, something that was connected to their conception of God, which meant that it was connected to absolutely everything. That’s what Annie Dillard pointed toward in her little book. In her quest to find meaning in the meaningless, she went outside and ventured into nature, where she touched the actual planet in a quest to discover the “firm” that is “holy.”

I’m suggesting that, too, for what it is worth.

Last Sunday morning, I noticed the tiniest buds on the bare branches that seemed to say to me that all good things will return to life someday. I noticed the geese squawking above the treetops on their return trip home that seemed to say to me that loneliness won’t last forever. I noticed the evergreens standing proudly over the still water that seemed to say to me that some good things really do last forever. And I happened to notice all of this with my forever friend who was poised to celebrate yet another gorgeous trip around the sun.

As we hiked, we came to joke about the “Caution: Steep Hill” signs that we encountered often, signaling hills that really were somewhat challenging but not that difficult for us. Afterward, I noticed the Northwest Trail loop that we completed described as “the most difficult trail in the park.” We laughed, having navigated some far more difficult trails in our brief hiking careers.

Maybe that’s worth remembering, too. On this hike called life, the more that we experience, the better equipped we can be for the trails that are to come. When you find despair attempting to lock you indoors, crawl out the window and go on an actual hike. And just walk, and watch, and listen.

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Deep in the Heart of Texas

Posted on July 6, 2020 | Leave a comment

mask

“It is my task / To wear a mask / Deep in the heart of Texas.” – Me (July 2020)

I have the personality type that keeps me on the burnout watch list, so during this pandemic journey multiple people (predictably including both those who work for me and those I work for) have dropped multiple hints that I should take some time off and recharge. I also have the personality type that can ignore sound advice regarding my personal mental health, but I gave in, and not reluctantly. Our youngest daughter invited my wife and I to help her move, and since that was the only way I would get to see her this summer, it was an easy decision.

And yet, she lives deep in the heart of Texas, so of course as I tied up loose ends to take vacation around a long holiday weekend, Texas became a focal point of this blasted virus right on cue. I spend months going nowhere, and then when I do, I get on an airplane of all things to fly directly into the belly of the beast. It is like spinning the wheel on vacation locations and landing on Hell. Or, Chuck E. Cheese.

Nevertheless, I masked up and headed to Texas late last week.

I always wanted to visit Austin, although sitting in a hotel room was not at all what I envisioned. But I am glad to be here, enjoying the gift of family, resting, reading, relaxing—and washing my hands every thirty seconds.

I was most assuredly not trying to be irresponsible. Ironically, getting away was my attempt to be responsible. That, and being a dad. But I suspect others can relate to having the very best intentions and then looking up to discover that those intentions ended up as asphalt on the road to you know where.

Texas. Ha! Just kidding, although it is that hot down here.

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(Wishing I Could) Run Like a Kenyan

Posted on June 11, 2018 | Leave a comment

Kenyan RunKenyans are clearly the best distance runners on the planet. And I am clearly not. But I do love running, and I do love Kenyans, and if flights cooperate as planned I will be in Nairobi trying to figure out a way to go for a run when this update posts on Monday.

When I first visited Kenya two years ago, my friends, Dusty and Cecily, got up early with me one morning to go for a run with Paul, a wonderful young man and ultra-talented runner (pictured above). He took it easy on me, which provided the unforgettable experience of matching a Kenyan runner stride for stride, but when we approached the home stretch on a short run in the tiny village of Kamulu he challenged me to turn up the speed. Unfortunately, my speed was already turned up, so I told him to go for it. He did and left me smiling in the dust.

My wife and I decided on that trip that we would return and targeted two summers down the road. We are fortunate that our plan came to fruition in a church-related trip with six other good friends. So the blog will be on hiatus for a couple of weeks as we spend time in Nairobi and on safari—and if God keeps smiling on me, as I go for another run in this special place.  Stay tuned.

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Backyard Treasure Hunting

Posted on May 8, 2017 | Leave a comment

Zuma CanyonI want to see everything there is to see.  All of these United States.  All the regions of the world.  (Well, except Antarctica.  If I want to see frozen beauty I will go to the ice cream section of the grocery store.)  I can hear all the wonders of the world calling my name.  The world is vast and wild and beautiful and alluring, but it turns out there’s an argument to be made for just staying home.

Ronnie and I chased our friend, Brad, for 5.6 miles through Zuma Canyon Trail in the May Gray of Malibu last Saturday morning — and it was good.  Good friends.  Good run.  Good conversation.  Good stories and laughter.  Beautiful scenery.  Gentle trails.  Birds and flowers.  Pleasant temperatures.  A light mist.    

And yet I wondered how a runner like me who has lived in Malibu for nine years had never heard of Zuma Canyon Trail until Brad suggested we check it out.  What else have I failed to see in my own backyard?

I know that I could never take in all the wonders of this magical planet.  Believe me, I did the math.  And I know that I could never drink from all the intoxicating wonders of California, or even Los Angeles.  But now I am wondering if I could ever exhaust the beautiful secrets of this one little town!

There is value in travel and adventure, but a frantic effort to see and do everything is a fool’s mission.  Foolish because it is doomed to failure, but also foolish because you just may miss out on the cleverly disguised magic in your everyday world.

Enjoy the occasional globetrotting adventure if you get the opportunity, but you don’t have to leave home to discover amazing hidden treasures.  Take a look around and see for yourself. 

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A Difficult Journey

Posted on June 3, 2016 | 1 comment

Although less than flattering, I will tell the story.

Our business in India last week took us further away from the Delhi airport each day, culminating in a three-hour climb up a winding, dangerous, spectacular road in the Himalayas.  On this final climb, as we dodged death (and cattle) ahead of us and absorbed the awesome views on both sides of us, I developed a case of motion sickness.  Nothing too terrible, just enough to create a fuss for our hosts, which led to some rest, a nice visit from a young Indian doctor, and a bottle of Sprite.  By evening, I felt better and had the opportunity to enjoy the beautiful mountain village.

At 6:30am the following morning (warning: graphic material ahead), things went south.  Literally.  I will spare the terrible details, but suffice it to say that the next couple of hours were not pretty due to the onset of a malady common to travelers in the region.  But to somehow make things worse, we were scheduled to leave that morning with the following itinerary: a three-hour drive down the mountain, followed by a seven-hour drive to Delhi; followed by a six-hour wait in the airport; followed by an eight-hour flight to Amsterdam; followed by a one-hour race across the airport; followed by a ten-hour flight to Los Angeles.

And I felt like crap, pardon the ironic word choice.

One of my colleagues provided a miracle drug to stop the I’d-rather-not-say, and we were faced with a decision on what to do with me.  As my two colleagues considered donating me to India and our host offered to call an ambulance, I declared that I had four goals: (1) get down the mountain; (2) get to the airport in Delhi; (3) get to Amsterdam; and (4) get to Los Angeles.  And that I would take them one at a time.

Well, I strapped myself in, armed with a granola bar, drugs, a bottled water, prayer, and another Sprite, and off we went after goal number one.  It did not go so well.  At one point on the journey down the mountain, we stopped for my traveling mates to have lunch.  The smell of Indian food was not my friend, and I considered jumping off the mountain but did not have enough energy, so I strapped myself back in and continued on the journey.

I did survive the mountain and felt that there was hope—in fact, the lower elevation seemed to help.  On phase two of the journey—the seven-hour drive to Delhi—we stopped at a roadside convenience store where I discovered a can of plain Pringle’s and thought that God might like me again.  But alas, by the time night fell and we reached the airport, and possibly because we reached the crazy rush hour traffic of Delhi, I started to feel terrible again.  But hey, goal number two was accomplished.

The six-hour wait in the airport is not a fond memory.  On the plus side, I did eat most of a sandwich and then slept for a few hours sprawled across three plastic chairs, but by the time we boarded the flight to Amsterdam, I approached my lowest moment.  As the plane took off (thus ensuring I would reach goal number three), I longed for death once again.  I was certain that I would do ugly things in the airplane lavatory and even unfastened my seatbelt so that I could run for it—only you can’t run to the lavatory with drink carts in the aisle, and once you get there they are almost always occupied, and should a miracle occur and one be vacant I can’t fit in one anyway, much less if I am having convulsions.  And any change of clothes was packed in checked luggage.  I wished the plane would crash and somehow kill only me.

But somehow, after a few hours of misery, I improved enough for some fitful sleep, and by the time we completed my third goal I was in good enough shape to make it across the airport to board the plane to Los Angeles.

The final ten hours were not the happiest of my life, but I think you get the drift of the story by now.  I made it home after the terrible thirty-five hour journey and fully believe in miracles.

So why do I share such an embarrassing story?  I have faced a few significant challenges in my life, and there will be more for me and also for you.  When such challenges arise, and the journey ahead seems perilous and terrible with no guarantee of survival, sometimes you must set out on the journey anyway.

When such a journey is inevitable, fix your eyes on the road ahead, take it one step at a time, hope for some friends to journey with you, and just try to hold on.  You might not make it, but then again, you might.

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